


A Grantchester Miscellany

by Lucyemers



Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Babies, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lullabies, Multi, Panic Attacks, Religion, Season 1 Spoilers, Season 2 spoilers, infidelity (technically)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6760186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucyemers/pseuds/Lucyemers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've gotten a lot of fic prompts for Grantchester stuff on Tumblr and anticipate writing several ficlets.  And as there is so little fic in this fandom I thought I'd share it here as well. Keep an eye on the tags and/or ships as they will change and shift with each addition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Force

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter was written for the May Fic Challenge hosted by @ultrahotpink. Go here for more information: http://ultrahotpink.tumblr.com/post/143437434470/may-fan-fictiondrabble-challenge  
> The prompt was "Force". Takes place immediately following the season finale.

When Mrs. Maguire found Amanda awkwardly perched on a chair in the parlour she froze in the entrance way. She took in the state of Amanda’s face, tear streaked and mascara stained, hands resting on her stomach, not as gently as they could be, her usually pristine stockings grass stained and torn, and her feet were swollen.

Amanda met her eyes and whispered, “ I left.”

Sidney returned from the kitchen at that moment with a bowl of water and a cloth, and nearly collided with Mrs. Maguire, but stopped short when he saw the two women appraising each other. He knew how Mrs. Maguire felt about Amanda, and he was literally praying she would show some pity, if not understanding.

At his abrupt stop the water in the bowl had sloshed out onto the floor boards and this jolted Mrs. Maguire from her silent appraisal. She whipped around and grabbed the bowl from Sidney clucking, “Give me that.” She was immediately seated on the ottoman, tenderly cleaning the stains and tears from Amanda’s cheeks, then removing her shoes she commanded, “Mr. Chamber’s heat up some water, please. Can’t you see Mrs. Hopkins’s feet hurt? Honestly I don’t know what possessed you to march a lady in this condition across the countryside.” Taken aback (he didn’t think he’d ever been ordered into the kitchen in this house before) he attempted to sputter a reply, but Mrs. Maguire would not spare him a glance. She gently rested her hand over Amanda’s that was pressed to her stomach. “Your stomach’s unsettled, dear?” She gave a slight nod. “I’ll fix you some peppermint tea.”

As she bustled out she stopped for just a moment to give another order to Sidney. “Mr. Chambers, you’ll do none of us any good gaping. I asked for hot water, and when you’ve finished with that the front room sheets need turning down. We have a guest. Make yourself useful!”, she snapped as she brushed past him into the kitchen.

Left alone with Amanda all he could do was heave a flustered sigh. “That woman’s a force.”

“I know”. Amanda gave him the hint of a smile. “That’s why we love her.”


	2. Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt on Tumblr, "Be still. It'll be alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first thing I've written that is even REMOTELY shippy and/or slashy ...so have mercy on me. I'll get better with practice :)

Sidney had only ever given absolution a handful of times. The Church of England acknowledged the sacrament of confession but never with the Catholic’s fervor. “All may, some should, none must” he remembered his seminary instructor briskly reciting, and he had taken the adage to heart.

And yet in the space of a day he had broken himself open and confessed his own sins. Neither confession had given him any sense of relief. Maybe that was because it hadn’t been a fellow vicar he was confessing to. But what would the archdeacon know about the horrors of war? He had been safely in England due to his poor vision. So he had told Geordie instead as he always knew he would. He hadn’t made a conscious decision to say it until it was already on his lips, and looking back perhaps it had not been coincidental that this moment of confession had finally occurred when Geordie was laid up in a hospital bed and incapable of storming out of the room in disgust. “You did what you had to do Sidney.” As he’d said this Sidney saw Geordie’s own wartime horrors behind his stoic eyes and realized it was not a statement of absolution but complicity. 

And then there had been Hildegard. He did not blame her for leaving. She was much too strong to have allowed his weakness. So while he knew he had done the right thing, and while he knew he should have told her about his infidelity much sooner, he doubted if his guilt would have felt any less wretched if he had. His confessors had given him no absolution, so he had decided to atone. This had always been Sidney’s first reaction to sin: what can I do to help others? (and to distract myself?) 

Having gone to check on Kathy he’d found her not at home, but was greeted instead by her elderly neighbor who looked fit to drop from hours of babysitting. SiIdney promised to fetch Kathy from the hospital where she apparently had determined to keep a night long vigil by Geordie’s side. He put her in a cab and, though she put up a pretence of fighting him on it, visibly relaxed when he said he would stay instead.The nurses had told him that Geordie had been given a substantial dose of morphine just before Sidney arrived. He expected he was in for a quiet evening as the drug would surely facilitate easy sleep. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. He hadn’t realized he’d dozed off himself until he was awoken by a sob. At first he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t dreamt it. Then he heard it again, louder this time and more ragged. Shaking himself awake he reached out to still his friend whose breathing was quickening and cries were escalating. 

“Geordie...easy...easy.” The cries were cut off abruptly by a sharp intake of breath, this time not of panic but pain. Sidney could see blood on the sheets. He needed rebandaging but he was not going to leave him alone to flag down a nurse.

“Be still. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Geordie’s eyes were unfocused and terrified, and in his drugged delirium Sidney saw no recognition. He was not heeding his warnings. Violent thrashing was not going to speed the healing process, and as he felt his own sense of panic rising he made a decision. Gently, but effectively, he took hold of Geordie’s shoulders and anchored his friend to the bed. The firm touch seemed to startled him into stillness but his eyes widened in confusion and his.breath hitched. Leaning over Geordie to meet his eyes he saw only confusion. He wasn’t seeing him but maybe, he thought, he would hear him. Taking some of the pressure off his shoulder and moving his hands down his friend’s arms allowed him to slowly sit on the edge of the bed. He could feel the muscles in Geordie’s arm tense and then slowly relax as he bent down and whispered in his ear. “You’re alright. Your safe. It’ll be alright just be still.” 

He was close enough to feel Geordie’s breath on his cheek and so he repeated his words until his breathing slowed and deepened. He lifted his head and was surprised to see Geordie watching him in recognition through fever bright eyes. 

“Sidney?” he whispered. 

“Geordie.” He returned. And then Geordie’s hand was on his cheek, in his hair, fingertips tracing the lines of his face, ever so gentle, exceedingly tentative. He leaned into it, closed his eyes, allowed himself the briefest pleasure and comfort. Everything was soft and still for just a moment.

Then he took Geordie’s hand gently in his own and lay it down by his side. Standing up he turned away saying, “Go back to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "All may, some should, none must" quote is something my priest said about confession in the Episcopal Church I don't know if it also applies to the Anglican Church.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt on Tumblr: "I didn't know you could sing."

Sidney Chambers had an embarrassing secret. He could rattle off the Eucharistic Prayer with ease, he knew parts of the catechism in Latin, but he could not, no matter how many times the archdeacon annoyingly hinted that it would “deepen his personal liturgical experience”, memorize hymns.

When he processed in every Sunday he, unlike his parishioners, was not allowed a hymnal. These two factors resulted in another secret kept unintentionally from his parishioners: Sidney Chamber’s singing voice, though very few had heard it, stirred the weary soul and stilled the worried heart. He did not like to make a show of it, but he knew it was true. He always took a hymnal when called to perform the last rites, knowing he could sing some comfort for those taking their last breath in ways that prayers could only attempt.

Of course the other end of the glorious continuum were life’s first breaths, taken over and over and taking the form of horribly wretched cries. As of one week ago there was a baby in the vicarage. And nobody, least of all Amanda, had gotten much sleep.

Sidney woke to the all too quickly familiar ear-splitting cries for the fourth night in a row. He heaved a sigh as he sat up in bed and his feet met the floor in one uncomfortable jerk. Words from the previous afternoon whispered unwanted through his head. They were words originally shouted and words he had not wanted to hear. (Or so he told himself, but he had been listening).”You’re my wife, Amanda! With all of his holiness he ought to understand that! I would say she’s my daughter, but why should I even be sure of that now?”

The words had managed to rankle his conscience doubly. First, because she was still married to Guy, even as she kissed Sidney long and hard every evening before shutting the guest room door behind her where he lingered for a second too long wondering if he would be invited in. Second, because Alice was not his daughter. There was not even a possibility that she could be. He had been delivered from that temptation, though in his weakest moments he wished that he had not. And yet here he was loving Amanda, and now, finally, blissfully kissing Amanda and devoutly (he did not use the word lightly) wishing that this little family could permanently be his family to love, honor and cherish, to have and to hold.

Even now, he thought to himself. Even now as Alice’s truly awful screams propelled him into his dressing gown, yawning and cursing and stubbing his toe on the bed frame. He emerged from his room to find Leonard on the landing head resting on his own door frame, eyes bleary as they met Sidney’s Leonard whispered, “If that precious blessing of creature–” and then growled, “does not stop crying–” 

“I know, Leonard”, Sidney cut him off. “I know. Just go back to sleep.” Lumbering down the stairs and finding Amanda walking in a somewhat crazed circle round the sitting room bouncing Alice as she keened, “Alice, pleeease…” She was starting to sob a bit herself. She stopped when she saw Sidney trying to brush away her tears on her shoulder as both arms are occupied with clutching her daughter. He could see that his sympathetic gaze was only making the tears run more freely. 

“She’s not hungry. She doesn’t need changing. She just keeps crying”, she ground out in frustration, sniffing between sentences, eyes cast nearly heavenward, pleading. He was beside her before he knew what he was doing, scooping Alice into his arms. “Sidney…” She protested dully before letting her arms drop in utter exhaustion. She stood there for a minute as he began to bounce her gently and whisper quiet soothing sounds.

“Alright”, she sighed and let relief carry her back into the bedroom, but, he noticed, did not close the door.

“Hello love” he coos at her. She stops for a moment before he sees her stomach rise in another deep breath that signals another long cry. “Oh no, no sweetness, you’re fine…you’re alright.” He doesn’t know why he thought he would know anything about this, but he tries the only idea that comes to him and begins quietly singing, “Over the mountain, over the sea, back where my heart is longing to be. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love.” He pauses and she starts to fuss, so he keeps going, “I see the moon. The moon sees me. Down through the branches of the old oak tree. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love.” 

He starts walking around the room, stopping at the window, enjoying the stillness of the evening and, for at least a moment, he doesn’t want to push his luck, the stillness in the room, and keeps singing, “I hear a lark, a lark hears me, singing a song with a sweet melody, please let the lark that sings for me, sing for the one I love.” Alice is miraculously quiet. And her breathing is deepening. Painfully slowly he sits and allows his arm to rest on the arm of the sofa. He watches Alice’s tiny fingers curled around his thumb and tries to keep his breathing as quiet as possible.

“I didn’t know you could sing”, it’s the slightest wisp of a sound and he looks up to see Amanda standing at the edge of the room.

“It’s the only song I know by heart” he whispers back. She tiptoes to his side and lowers herself on the sofa, pulling her legs up underneath her so that she’s curled up against him, melting into him as if she hasn’t slept in days and, of course, she hasn’t. Alice starts to stir, making tiny squeaking sounds and he can feel Amanda’s whole body tense.

“Sing more, please”, she urges into his ear.

He continues, “I kiss a rose. A rose kisses me. Fragrant as only a rose can be. Please let the rose that comforts me, comfort the one I love.” He begins again, sings the whole song through, and when he finishes Amanda is asleep on his shoulder and Alice is asleep in his arms, and he can’t move for fear of waking them. It’s four a.m. on a Sunday morning and he’ll have to dress in nearly two hours, but he can’t feel anything in him worrying about that. He only feels the breath of the two people he that he thinks of every morning before he opens his eyes and every night as they close


End file.
